The Legendary
by Dream-Like-State
Summary: The Forbidden Forest was something to be wary of but Hermione Granger forgot that & literally landed in the Arthurian Era. As a debt to Arthur and his knights, she must help them on their last mission & TRY not to fall in love. Sure... Re-continued!
1. Burn the Witch!

The Forbidden Forest had always been a mystery. Things happened in the forbidden forest that no one could know. People disappeared and returned years later. Others had claimed to see things. So, it was no wonder that when an anger-fuelled Hermione Granger stomped into the forest on a particularly cold winter's day that something strange was bound to happen.

"Bloody, stupid, ridiculous boys!" She seethed. Her fists were clenching and unclenching as she stomped through the trees. "Fighting! Over a bloody _girl_!" Indeed they had been fighting. They were both now bloody-lipped in the hospital wing and glaring at one another from opposite sides of the room. All over Cho Chang.

"Stupid little – oomph!" She tripped on a tree root and landed face first on the dirty ground. "Wonderful." She remarked, sitting up and leaning against the trunk of the nearest tree. She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at a stray flower. "Immature." She muttered.

Hermione continued to mutter under her breath for another twenty minutes, until she decided to head back to the castle after realising exactly where she was. "Oh bloody hell. Can this day possibly get worse? Next thing I know, Filch'll –" She never got to finish that sentence.

She tripped over that pesky root again. Only this time, she just seemed to keep falling. She screamed in terror as she opened her eyes, only to see grass covered ground coming up on her fast. Hermione swore she hadn't been that high up...

She landed with a thud, her wand snapping and the force of the fall, knocking her out.

The sudden appearance of a girl falling from the sky had roused the villagers. The people of Hadrian's Wall gathered around her limp body in wonder. Exclamations of 'How did _that_ happen?' came in all forms.

"What is this?" A Roman Bishop by the name of Germanius shoved through the crowd, sneering at anyone who stood in his way. "How did this happen?" He demanded.

Someone from the crowd answered him. "She fell from the sky." It was a wonder to the people.

"From the sky?" He asked, gaining nods from a few of the crowd. "A witch! A witch! Burn her! She must be burnt at the stake! Kill her!" He shouted. Two guards came through the crowd, doing as ordered.

It was then that Hermione's eyes flickered open, only to see the ugly faces of two men and feel the hands grab her roughly by the arms. "Hey! What are you doing?! Put me down, you brutes!" She exclaimed as they wrenched her up from the ground.

"Silence, Witch! We will not have any of your treachery upon us!" Germanius shouted at her. "You, prepare the bon fire!" He ordered. More soldiers came to do his bidding as they dragged Hermione away.

"No, you bloody wankers! Don't burn me!" She shouted. The two guards took her over to the nearest pole and bound her arms tightly behind her. "I swear that if you don't untie me right this instant, I'll kick your arses into OBLIVION!"

Germanius marched up to her and slapped her across the face. "You dare say such profanities in front of a Bishop! This just proves it! And look at your clothing! A wench too!" He exclaimed, spitting on her.

Hermione's eyes widened and for the first time she took in her surroundings. She gasped. The people were not wearing normal clothing. They were riding horses and there were men in armour. Oh Merlin! She was in Medieval times!

She began hyperventilating. "Oh god. Oh shit." She cursed. "Merlin's bloody beard!"

"What's going on out here?" A man on a horse asked testily, looking down at Hermione and the Bishop. "Why is she bound?" He demanded to know.

"She is a witch!" The Bishop exclaimed. "She is to be burnt, knight." He informed with a sense of superiority.

The guy snorted. He had dark brown eyes and dark brown hair in a bunch of frizzy curls. "You think that you have the right to take someone's life for-for some claim that she is a witch! You are dead wrong, Bishop."

"You speak to me like that? How dare you!" The bishop exclaimed. "You are out of order, knight!"

"Me, out of order? Oh dear," He remarked sarcastically. "_You_ are the bastard who is burning a strange girl on some accusation of being a witch!"

Hermione bristled. "I am _not_ strange!" She looked past the bishop and the knight to see that a bonfire had been erected with a pole in the middle, a set of chains hanging from the tope. Her eyes widened.

The Bishop noticed it too, and smiled. "Burn her." He ordered to one of the guards, who just nodded.

"No, don't burn her!" She shouted. She looked up at the knight on the horse, who was looking down at her with remorse. "Please, don't let them burn me! I haven't done anything wrong! It was an accident that I even came to be here!"

Galahad looked down at her. She had honey brown hair and eyes to match. She was quite beautiful. He snapped out of it and looked around for Arthur. "I won't, I promise." He said, galloping back to the stables.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" She said, struggling against the guards untying her hands and grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and arms. "You put me down! NOW!" She said, trying to get free, but they held her fast.

Bloody hell, she was doomed.

Galahad came to a stop in front of the barn and dismounted. He ran in to the barn, stopping before Arthur. "I need your help. There's a girl – the bishop is going to burn her." He said quickly, knowing that Arthur would follow as he ran.

They arrived in the town square just on time to see the girl being bound to the wooden stake in the centre of the bonfire, a crowd already gathered around, shouting vile things at the accused witch.

"STOP!" Arthur shouted, making his way to where the girl was screaming profanities from. Everyone fell silent. He strode up to the Bishop. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded to know, much as his knight had previously.

"She is a witch, Arthur! We must burn her! Rid her from our holy land!" The Bishop exclaimed. Hermione's eyes were getting wider as the crowd cheered.

"You claim she is a witch, but what proof have you?" He asked, gesturing to her with his sword.

The Bishop looked at Arthur incredulously. "What more do you need? Look at her clothing, short and revealing," Hermione gaped. Her school uniform was _not_ revealing!

"What is to say she not just a whore?" Arthur asked challengingly.

Hermione bristled, but before she could speak, the Bishop continued. "She fell from the sky, and she was screaming profanities at me, and the name of Merlin!"

Arthur looked at her carefully. "Merlin, you say?" The Bishop nodded. "What do you know of Merlin?" He asked the girl.

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, not wanting to incriminate herself. "I-I... Uh, not much. Only that he is... a great Sorcerer." She said slowly, watching as the Knight from the horse grimaced.

"A woad." Arthur muttered. "She is nothing but a woad, falling from a tree."

"What the bloody hells is a Woad?" She asked snappily. "Whatever it is, I am not one of them."

"Silence, Witch!" The Bishop cried. "There you have it, she shall be burnt as a witch!" The crowd cheered again.

"No, she will not be burnt! She knows things of Merlin. She can be helpful to us on our travels." Arthur said, his sword pointed at the guards who had moved to set her afire.

The Bishop sputtered. "But she is in with the Devil!" He exclaimed.

Another knight rode up on his horse, next to the first one. This one had long dark blonde hair, in braids and knots, framing a face of scars and dirt. "What's going on?" He asked loudly.

"This girl is a witch!" The Bishop cried.

"Or a woad." Galahad supplied. "If she is but a woad, we shall take her on our journey with us. She will owe us her life. In return she shall help us to fight off the Northern Woads." He said this loudly so the Bishop could hear.

"She bares no markings." One of the villagers said.

"That does not mean she isn't a woad." Arthur said.

More knights joined them, gathering the same story. "We can use her to get past the Woads. She probably knows a thing or two." A big burly one said, eyeing off the guards standing behind the bishop.

"Very well, _if_ the girl is a woad, you can have her." The bishop said, turning to her. "Are you a witch or a woad, girl?"

Her eyes widened. If she said she was a witch, she'd be burnt at the stake. If she said she was a woad – whatever _that_ was – she would live... until they found out she really wasn't a woad and had no idea what they were on about. "I – uh, well, I'm a woad." She lied, realising that maybe she could use what little time she had alive to escape.

"How can I trust that you are?" The Bishop asked.

Hermione nearly screamed. "Well, would a woad really want to be burnt at the stake, or go home?"

Arthur nodded. "She has a point." Though really, he knew she didn't. "She is ours. Gawain, untie her, Jols, get her a horse."

"Thank you, sir!" She said as he strode off. The Knight called Gawain untied her hands and she snatched them to her and out of reach of any guards. She rubbed at the raw skin. "That bloody hurt." She muttered, then looked up, realising she was being watched.

"What is your name?" The first knight asked. He ran a hand through his curly hair.

"Hermione." She blurted out before stopping to think of something else. Curses.

"Hermione." He said slowly. "C'mon, we'd better get you some better clothes. I'm Galahad." He said, helping her down from the bonfire. Her eyes widened, but he thought nothing of it, instead focusing on how cold her hands were. "Maybe something warm to wear."

It couldn't be. Arthur. Gawain. Galahad? Oh Merlin, she was – she couldn't be. She was in the Arthurian Era. Bloody oath, how was she meant to cope with that?!


	2. Bloody Men!

**Chapter Two**

They had given her a dress, made from orange cotton – courtesy of Bors' lover. Then they had quite unceremoniously dumped Hermione on a horse and _chained_ her to the bridle. Bloody bastards.

"You have no idea how uncomfortable this is!" She shouted over the sound of pounding hooves. "Why am I chained to the horse? Can't you just _trust_ me?" She asked, only to be met with laughter. They had been riding hard for four hours and her bum was beginning to hurt.

"Alright, then." Arthur said, slowing his horse. "We'll have a rest." He declared, stopping and dismounting. The others followed, but Hermione was left chained to her horse.

She huffed. "No, of course I don't mind being chained to a horse, with a sore bum. I find it quite wonderful, actually." She spat sarcastically under her breath. When she looked up, she found one of the knights gazing at her. Her cheeks flushed, but she stared back. "What are you looking at?" She snapped.

"Calm down, Lass." He said coolly, holding his arm out. A bird suddenly swooped down and landed on his arm. Hermione jumped. He chuckled, before cooing at the bird and sharing some of his apple.

"Perhaps we should let you off your horse, then." Galahad said, coming up to her and unbuckling her chains. She rubbed at her wrists for the second time in one day and dismounted swiftly, but very ungracefully. Galahad steadied her and she glared at him.

"Thanks." She said. She looked around; they were in some kind of grassy meadow, the grass a brown shade. "Wow." She breathed, plonking down on top of the soft grass.

"Nice, isn't it?" The Bird Knight said. He sat down next to her and passed her a water canteen. She drank from it and smiled softly. "Is it as nice as wherever you come from?" He asked quietly.

She blinked at him and he chuckled. "You know I'm not a woad?" She asked, uncertain, but knowing that if he hadn't known before, he surely knew now.

"We all know." He said, pulling up some grass.

"But then – why?" She sputtered. She looked around and spotted the odd one out. Well, the _other_ odd one out. The Bishop's friend, Horton. "Oh. I see." She said.

He chuckled again. "So, are you really a witch?" He was just plain curious, now. He wanted to know everything about this strange girl; where she had come from, what her home was like... if she was married – but that was just for Galahad.

She looked around cautiously. "Will you burn me at the stake if I am?" she asked, causing him to laugh – loudly. "I'll take that as a no, then." She said and he smirked. "Yes, I am. Don't tell the Bishop, though." She whispered conspiringly.

He rolled his eyes and stood up. "You have my confidence. But right now, I think we're leaving." He indicated to the group mounting their horses again and went over to his own horse.

Hermione gingerly mounted, almost dismounting herself in the process as the long skirt of the dress got caught in the stirrup. She cursed and Horton looked at her disapprovingly. "Honestly, I don't usually curse this much..." She said, her cheeks flushing. She had always hated getting into trouble...

"We've got to move swiftly through the forest, or we'll be ambushed." Arthur announced. "Tristan, how far have we got until we reach Woad territory?"

The Bird Knight, as it turns out, answered Arthur swiftly. "A few hours' ride... If we ride hard." Hermione looked at him curiously.

"How did you know that?" She asked, unable to control herself.

"He talks to the bird. She's his one and only love." Bors said with a grin, making them laugh. Tristan smiled and whistled into the air, calling the bird to him. "And she comes with his call... though I don't know why; he's not that much of a looker." Bors roared with laughter at his own humour and Hermione gave off a snort.

They continued on for a few more hours and stopped just as dusk hit. There, they set up a camp, not risking the forest until morning. "Should we tie her up? What if she goes savage during the night?" Horton worried.

"Oh please, I'm a human, not an animal." She said, swinging her leg over the horse. Her dress got caught – again and this time, she fell flat on her back, with a groan. "Bloody hell." She muttered. "Stupid Ronald. Stupid Harry. This is all their fault." She seethed.

"She's a feisty one." Bors remarked. Lancelot snorted and made some comment Hermione didn't hear and Arthur looked at her apologetically.

He came over to her. "I'm really sorry about this." He said.

"Sorry about wha – whoa! Hey, what are you doing?! Put me down RIGHT NOW!" She yelled as he swung her over his shoulder and carried her over to the nearest tree. They tethered her up like a horse to the tree.

She glared at him and Bors laughed. "It's alright, Lass, you'll be fine. We just can't let you go savage on us, now can we?" She glared at him, too, refusing to speak – though it was pointless.

Just after the sun set, Arthur and Horton stood up, disappearing to a quiet place, leaving Hermione with the rest of the knights.

A grin broke out on Galahad's face. "So, Tristan, old boy, who's the winner?" He asked cheerfully. Hermione's eyebrow rose.

"She's a witch." He said quietly, flicking some of his dark hair out of his eyes. "Bors, Galahad and Arthur win."

"Cough it up, boys. I want my silver." Bors said loudly, holding his hand out. He got three silver pieces from Tristan and three from Gawain and Dagonet, who rolled his eyes and took a drink of water. Galahad got the same amount with a triumphant grin.

"You were betting on whether I was a witch." She stated. She blinked at them and they all owned up to it sheepishly. "Men. They're all... idiots." She muttered, plonking down on the ground. "Is anyone going to tell me what a Woad is?"

Galahad sat down next to her, warmth radiating off his body. "They're the rebel Britons. The ones who don't agree with Rome invading Britain. They live in the Northern part of Britain and occasionally attack in the South. Savage and ruthless with their fighting."

She nodded and was silent for a minute. "So, how much of that is mine?" Hermione indicated to the money Bors was putting in his saddlebag.

They laughed. But she was being quite serious. "None of it." Bors said. "To earn any of this, you need to learn how to ride a horse and fight properly, sweet'eart."

She scoffed at them. "I know how to fight, thank you very much." She defended. "If I had my wand here, I'd show you a thing or two –"

"Wand?" Galahad asked with a sort. "What are you; a fairy?" He teased.

"If I wasn't tied to a stinking tree I'd come over there and show you how much of a fairy I am!" They laughed at her ferociousness. "You're laughing now, but I've fought –"

"The Bishop's Man is coming back. Quiet now." Dagonet said suddenly, sitting himself down, though all of the others could barely hide their curiosity.

Arthur returned with Horton scurrying behind him. "Good night, God bless." He muttered, crawling into the tent that had been set up just for him. Hermione rolled her eyes. It probably wasn't as good as a wizard tent, anyway.

"Arthur, you've won, by the way." Dagonet said with a bore air, dropping some coins into his leader's hand. Gawain followed, along with Tristan.

Arthur gave a smirk of satisfaction and settled himself for the night.

Galahad walked over to Hermione and threw a blanket in her face. She gave and indignant 'hey!', but smiled at him nonetheless, before snuggling into the blanket – not that it helped much against the cold weather, coming up to winter and all.

Her skin formed goosebumps and she found herself shivering throughout the night. "Bloody hell." She muttered under her breath, curling up into a little ball. Really, she shouldn't be doing this right now. If she could get her hands on those wretched boys she called best friends... Well, _then_ they'd have something to be angry about.


	3. My Hero?

**Thanks for the reviews, I love them!**

**Now, if you haven't seen the movie King Arthur, I suggest you do so, because it can ge quite confusing... and not to mention it's brilliant. xD**

**Chapter Three**

As the sun was about an hour off dawning the next day, Hermione was awoken rather roughly from her sleep. "Wakey, wakey, my lady." Was whispered in her ear. She jolted out of her slumber and sat bolt upright.

"What?" She asked testily. "What do you want?" She glared at the face of Bors, nice and chipper in the morning.

"Just thought you might want to go have a wash before we wake up the Bishop's Lackey is all." He said, untying her arm. Hermione smiled at him and he gave her a toothy grin. "Don't be too long, though, Lass. You've got about half an hour." He encouraged, pointing the way quietly out of the clearing and through the woods.

She found a running stream, which was deep enough to bathe in and stripped off after looking around for anyone who wanted to take a little peek. She hung her donated dress on a nearby branch and stepped in, regretting it immediately. "Oh God, that's cold!" She squeaked to herself.

She quickly washed herself, wanting to get out of the icy water as soon as possible and dried herself off, before slipping back into her clothing. As she walked back through the forest, she noticed the sun peaking through the trees and quickened her pace.

However, as she reached the edge of the trees, a hand stopped her, spinning her quickly and pinning her against a large tree, making sure to cover her mouth and stifle the very loud scream waiting at her lips.

"Hush," he said gently. It was Galahad, his dark curls in an even messier array than she had seen. Hermione guessed it was from sleep. "You cannot go back alone. The Bishop's man woke a little earlier than scheduled." He said, taking his hand off her mouth and letting her free from his strong hold, while she tried to ignore the soothing feel of his hard calloused hands.

She scowled toward the clearing. "Why can't we just tell him? It would be so much easier."

He raised an eyebrow at her and leant against the nearest tree casually. "Yes... until we made it to the nearest town. And then he'd start back exactly where the Bishop left off." He crossed his hands across his chest and smiled.

Hermione sighed and held out her wrist, ready for the tying. Out of nowhere, it seemed, Galahad pulled out a strip of rope, tying it around her wrist. She grimaced as it began rubbing against her already sore skin. "Can we not just knock him out for the remainder of the journey?" She grumbled, earning a chuckle from her 'captor'.

"There you are! I was beginning to think you had run away with the Woad." Horton said as they entered the clearing.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Galahad tied her to her horse after she had mounted shakily. They cautiously rode into the forest, Lancelot and Arthur in the lead, whilst Tristan sent out his bird.

"We ride quietly." Arthur instructed, signalling for them to move on. Hermione sighed silently to herself, her shoulders slumping.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a sharp tingle shot through her body and she gasped. There was powerful magic here. The Knights looked at her questioningly, while Horton looked at her with disgust. "Sorry, being this close to home is..." She acted out.

Arthur shook his head and the continued through the forest for a couple of hours. Until the first barbed arrow was shot. It landed in front of Arthur's steed, sending it into a flurry of panic. The knights took hold of their horses and galloped for an alternate route, arrows pulling barbed wire cutting their escape off.

Hermione's horse bucked in fright as an arrow went past its nose. She pulled hard on the reins only to panic the horse more. She screamed as the horse stood on its hind legs before speeding off into the forest, followed by more arrows.

Her grip on the reins slipped and she clung to the rope that held her wrists, her legs tensed to the body of the horse. She dodged an arrow to her head by slipping down further, putting more strain on the ropes holding her on the horse. So it was no wonder that the ropes snapped and she fell from her horse, landing with a thud on the ground, not knowing where she was.

_This place just keeps getting better_, she thought bitterly as she was quickly surrounded by men with bows and arrows and swords in their hands, covered in some kind of blue paint. These, she guessed, were Woads.

"Please, I don't mean you any harm." She said loudly, holding her hands up in surrender. In the background she heard a distinct horn sound off. The Woads looked to each other, their eyes questioning. Slowly and gracefully, they lowered their weapons and disappeared into the forest.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping as she looked around. She was amongst tall trees, which appeared to go on for miles, brushing the clouds. "Bullocks." She said simply, plopping down on a tree root. She looked at her wrists and pulled the remaining rope off, wincing at the lacerations they had left.

The sound of hooves startled her into standing, looking around wildly. Quickly she clambered up a tree, scowling as her dress got caught on various branches. The sound got closer and she nearly screamed as a rider on a horse suddenly appeared directly beneath her.

"Oh thank God." She whispered as she recognised Galahad's head of curly locks. He chose this moment to look up.

He jumped at the sight of a girl in a tree and raised his sword in defence, before taking a closer look at her face. "Oh, it's you. What're you doing up there?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione blushed. "Well... I was – err, hiding." She said. "Now, if you don't mind, how do I get down?" She squeaked, looking down at the branches she had managed to leave skin on.

He gave a chuckle and dismounted, circling the tree for a safer way. He shook his head, not finding one. "You can either climb down the way you got up," She shook her head vigorously. "Or you can jump and I'll catch you. Don't worry; I'm quite good at this rescue thing."

Hermione bit her lip, looking at the cuts and scrapes up her arms and legs. Galahad was trustworthy. He was strong and probably able to catch her. "I'll jump on the count of three." He nodded, getting into position, holding his arms out. "One," she clambered near the edge of a particularly thick branch. "Two," She stood as high as she dared. "Three." She jumped, landing in his arms and sending them both toward the ground, landing with a thud and identical 'oomph's.

"Ouch." Galahad groaned, opening his eyes to find Hermione staring at him, her cheeks red. Their eyes met – green on honey brown. Her hair was tickling his face and she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Hermione said, pushing herself off him, though she missed the heat of his body. She held out his hand for him. He grabbed it and hauled himself up, 'forgetting' to let go for an instant.

Galahad touched her cheek, wiping the blood from a seeping cut. "We'd better get you cleaned up, I suppose."

"No." He looked at her surprised. "No, I'm not going back there." She said, stepping away. "I'm not going back with you only to be tied to a horse – which could potentially _break_ or _cut off_ my hands – just because some bishop's lackey wants to feel safe. I won't go back to that. It's bad enough I was hunted back home during the wars –"

"What wars? Who would hunt you?" He asked curiously.

"Don't worry about it. The _point_ is that I'm not going with you." She said, crossing her arms across her chest, and looking quite like a child.

Galahad let out a bark of laughter. "So you'd rather I let the Woads get you?" He said, laughing again as she scowled at him. "I think maybe you should just get on the horse, so we can go and find the others and maybe even get out of this forest."

"No." Hermione persisted, watching him as he rolled his eyes.

"Fine." He said, mounting swiftly. Galahad looked down at her one more time, before riding past her. He turned again and rode past he again, this time hooking an arm around her waist from behind and pulling her onto the horse, despite her yells of protest.

"You bloody git! You let me get eaten alive by Woads right NOW!" She screamed, as he rode through the trees, her back on his lap. "I am NOT a damsel in distress you prat!" She yelled, though she clung to his clothes as he dodged tree after tree.

By the time they made it out of the forest, it was becoming dark, and the other knights were setting up camp about half an hour's ride from the edge of the forest. When they arrived, Hermione was exhausted.

"There you are! Been waiting for you to come back and pull your own weight, Galahad!" Bors all but roared. He helped Hermione down from the horse, earning a disapproving look from Horton. "Where's your horse, lass?"

She flushed. "Well, it panicked and I fell off. Look at what your damned ropes did to my wrists!" She marched up to Horton and shoved her wrist in his face.

He stepped back in fright. "Restrain this thing!" He shouted, his hands up in defence.

"I am not a thing! I am a human being!" Hermione raged as Lancelot took it upon himself to throw her over his shoulder and cart her away.

"Come, we must pray." Arthur said, leading Horton away.

Lancelot placed Hermione on the ground and smirked. "You're a fiery one." He ruffled her hair, messing her curls. She scowled at him and he laughed.

She sighed and sat down, rubbing her wrists. "Bloody men. They all think they're gifted. Think they can do everything. Well, they'll learn. Give them a few hundred years, and they'll know how much a woman is worth." She grumbled, only to jump when someone sat down next to her swiftly.

He took her tender wrists in his hand and massaged the red lacerations. "I'm surprised nothing's broken." Galahad said. "But you're a tough girl. A few more nights with the rope won't hurt." He pulled some rope from his pocket and tied her to another stray tree. She whimpered. "I'm sorry." He said softly, planting a kiss on each wrist.

Her face reddened, but the darkness kept it out of view. She said nothing as he stood up and went over to his own blankets, throwing her another one. Wrapping the blanket around her, Hermione prepared for another night amongst Legends.

Unbeknownst to her, Lancelot, Gawain and Tristan stood further away, their eyes flickering between the figure of Galahad, busying himself with watching the stars; and the lone figure of a girl lying next to a tree, one arm slightly raised to meet the trunk it was tied to. Small smiles spread across their faces.


	4. You Bind My Heart

**Chapter Four**

They spent the next few days travelling through the flatlands before they reached the village they were looking for. The knights stayed upon their horses at the gates – Hermione riding on the back of Galahad's horse – until the giant gates of the wall were opened.

"We have come to take you back to Rome." Arthur began. "Your people are in great danger."

"We will not leave. No, sir. We stay here. We are perfectly safe. Rome has sent you to guard us and that is all we need." The short stumpy man by the name of Marius said cockily. Hermione looked on curiously as Arthur dismounted.

"You and your family will die if you do not leave this place now. There is an army of Saxons on their way here to kill you and if you do not leave as soon as possible, you will be slaughtered." Arthur said wisely.

Marius showed a slight flinch at this, but stood taller. "No, we do not need protection. Leave my village." He said.

Arthur marched up to him and looked him straight in the eye. "Listen here, sir. Me and my knights have put off our release from duty just to come here and save you and your kin, and I swear to the almighty God that if you do not come with us now, I will drag you until you are within the confines of Hadrian's wall myself. Am I clear?" He asked angrily. "Now, which one of you is Alecto?"

"I am." A new voice intervened, coming from a young man of about eighteen, who walked through the gates, being trailed by a beautiful woman who Hermione guessed was his mother. "Why do you ask?"

"The Bishop has specifically asked for me to ensure your safety. Go, now and pack your things. We leave as soon as possible." Arthur instructed, earning a glare from Marius as he stomped grumpily back into the gates; his wife and son close behind him.

Hermione leant in to whisper in Galahad's ear. "What gives him the power to have such a fancy house, when these people are stuck in their huts?" She watched as they went back to their work, muttering amongst them, having heard the news of Saxons. "And shouldn't we save them as well? I mean, they're people just as much as any other."

Galahad knew she was right and as he turned to face her, he found himself nodding in agreement. "Arthur!" He called, trotting up to the leader in question. "Should we not get the villagers out, too?" He asked, casting a glance through the town and spotting a few things out of place and frowning at them.

Wordlessly, Arthur looked around, making his own notes of the town, before spotting something that disgusted him. They all watched as he rode up to the middle of the square, where an old man hung by his wrists, bleeding from all sorts of places. "What has this man done to receive such a punishment?" He demanded with an authoritive voice. "Answer me!" He shouted when silence met his demand.

"He's our village elder, sir." One of the villagers said, his eyes boldly meeting Arthur's. "All he asked was that we keep a little more for ourselves. All our food goes to trade and we get near to nothing for our hard work." Hi voice had risen to an outraged cry.

Arthur took his sword – Excalibur, Hermione remarked in her mind – from his sheath and Hermione watched in awe as he cut the man down from his chains, issuing orders to take care of him. "Now listen, all of you must leave this place. There is an extravagant army of Saxons coming this way. Those of you who are able should pack your things and leave _now_, those unable come with us." He issued these orders and the villagers set to work.

Suddenly, there was a brief moment of pause, dread filling the hearts of every person in hearing range. The drums of Saxons were sounding in the distance, getting louder as they came closer. It was at this moment that the first of the snow began to fall.

Arthur looked around again, his brown eyes settling upon a pair of guards hurrying along a couple of monks, who seemed to be building a wall. He marched up to them and demanded to know what they were hiding. They hesitated, before Arthur signalled for Dagonet to break down the wall.

"Unlock this door." He instructed. One of the monks protested greatly, causing Arthur to ignore him and signal for Dagonet's skills once more. He hacked mercilessly at the door until it came off its hinges.

Taking their swords from their scabbards, Arthur, Dagonet, Bors, Tristan, Gawain, Lancelot and Galahad dismounted and made their way to the entrance. Hermione cleared her throat loudly. "Excuse me; you can't just leave me out here." She protested.

Arthur looked at the young witch. Her honey brown eyes were darting back and forth between the guards of the Monks, who were looking at her with lust in their eyes. "Bring her." He instructed, earning a sigh of relief from Hermione. "But I cannot promise you will like what you see."

She nodded and whimpered as Gawain carefully untied her wrists. "Sorry about that." He said, gesturing to her bloodied wrists.

Tears filled her eyes as the rope was pulled from her skin and the air caressed the bleeding welts. She ignored the tears and dismounted, almost toppling herself in the process. "Bloody horse." She glared at the horse and followed Gawain and Galahad into a small passage.

The smell of rotting flesh assaulted their nostrils as they descended into a chamber filled with iron barred holes within the walls. Hermione covered her nose and mouth, resisting the urge to throw up. "Oh, God." She mumbled, her stomach turning.

"Who dares disturb this holy chamber?" A monk demanded, sneering at them. "You dare come in here and disturb God's work?!"

"Shut up, you! What is this evil?" Arthur demanded. He looked around the chamber, frowning at the dead bodies littering each little cell. "This is no holy place!" He said aloud. "Find anyone who is alive. Check every cell." He instructed.

"They are here to repent! They have sinned against our God!" another monk cried, coming into the chamber and lunging at Lancelot. "You cannot do this!" His angry words were cut short as Lancelot plunged his sword into the man and pushed him off, the next round of angry words left in his cold dead mouth.

The first monk gasped, his yellow teeth showing. "How dare you! You just killed a servant of God!" He yelled in a rage.

"Not MY God!" Lancelot replied, swiftly cutting down the chains of a cell.

The monk launched for Hermione, grabbing her around the neck and holding her against his body, a knife at her throat. "Leave this Holy Place, or I kill your whore!" He shouted as Hermione screamed her protest.

The knights drew their swords, anger filling their eyes. "You draw a _drop _of blood from her and you won't have a head for much longer." Galahad warned in a low and dangerous voice.

The monk cackled. "You dare threaten me? Hah! I know God will save me from your evil." The knife pressed hard against her exposed throat.

"I am NOT their whore!" Hermione screeched, taking the monk off guard when she spun herself out of his grip and kneed him in the groin. He yelled in pain and she punched him in the face with her closed fist, her eyes smouldering and disgust. As he fell to the ground, clutching his balls, Hermione dusted herself off proudly, sneering down at the monk. "You touch me again and not only will they be bruised, but they will be hanging from your ears."

The knights all took a step back at this. "I keep tellin' you, lads, she's a feisty one." Bors remarked quietly. "I wouldn't piss her off, no sir."

They continued searching every cell until there was none left, discovering only two living people – a small boy who had taken a natural liking to Dagonet and a woman, frail and scared.

As they began feeding the woman and child with water, Marius came out, enraged. "What is the meaning of this?! You are disturbing God's Will. These people have neglected their duty to God!" He shouted angrily, watching as his wife fed the woman some water. "You!" He shouted. "You kept them alive!!" He pulled her up by the elbow and slapped her down.

Arthur stood in anger. "You are an evil man! God does not wish it upon any person that they should receive this fate! You have made these people suffer for nothing! This NOT God's work!" He raged at the egotistical Marius.

Hermione stood by watching as Marius and Arthur yelled at one another, and Arthur ordered the Monks walled back up to suffer what they wish on the innocents. "Arthur, we don't have time!" Galahad shouted. Arthur just instructed them to keep going, ignoring the protests.

"Hermione, you should get back on the horse." Galahad said quietly, holding some more rope. She looked around and spotted Horton watching her closely, a slight sheen of fear in his eyes. "He'll not feel safe."

"I don't care if he feels safe." She spat angrily. "Look at what your ropes have done t my wrists." Hermione thrust her wrists in front of his face. "Please, Galahad. Don't." She begged with her eyes, her big honey brown eyes.

He shook his head, feeling guilt well up inside of him. "I'm sorry; I'll tie them loosely, I promise." He said kindly, mounting the horse. "C'mon, we don't have time." He swung her up in front of him and tied her wrists once more, though very loosely.


	5. Touched by Merlin

**Hey everyone. Loving the reviews. I hope you're loving the story so far... but here's a slight twist. I'm terribly sorry if it's not exact when following the King Arthur Movie storyline, but this is my version and so far, you seem to like it. So, enjoy. =]**

**Chapter Five**

Hermione was angry. Seething. She had been tied to a tree – again. Bloody bastards. If Harry and Ron were with her, they'd help her and the three of them would sneak away under the invisibility cloak. This thought saddened her.

Harry and Ron weren't with her, though, and while she had been angry with them – as it really _was_ their fault she'd ended up here – she missed them terribly. She wondered if they were missing her at all. They probably were, she mused. Potions was probably becoming difficult and there was nobody there to stop them bashing one another when the issue of Cho arose.

She sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest. So far, she hadn't missed home as much as she did now. She'd had no previous time to think; everyday was full of riding and helping people, or running from Woads. But now that she sat alone in the snow, shivering beneath the thin blanket and tied to a tree, she wished she were at Hogwarts, helping Harry and Ron with their assignments beside the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Don't look so happy." Someone said sarcastically. Hermione jumped in surprise. He chuckled and plopped down beside her, settling his back against the tree. "What are you thinking about that makes you frown so much?" Lancelot asked.

She looked up at the stars through the thinning leaves of the tree. "Home." She sighed. "Right now, if I was home, I'd be in the Gryffindor common room, helping my best friends with their assignments." A small smile adorned her face, but faded quickly. "But I'm not home. I don't know if I'll ever get home."

"And where exactly _is_ home?" He asked, looking at her curiously. He hadn't heard anything from the other men about her home and where she came from. He'd be the first to find out, Lancelot guessed, taking a swig of rum.

She sighed again. "Well... I guess that you know I'm a witch, so I might as well tell you. I'm from the future. Britain, to be exact." She smiled at his shocked face and he simply stared. "Yes, I know; hard to believe. But really, in my time, we go to a magical school with other witches and wizards. It's simply amazing. The safest place on the planet... or at least, it was. But that was before the war and now, I think it's on the way to becoming good old Hogwarts."

"War?" Lancelot prompted. Hermione nodded. "Between Wizards, witches and humans?"

Hermione smiled grimly, but shook her head. "Oh, no, the muggles don't know about the existence of Witches and Wizards. It was a magical war, between the good witches and wizards and the bad ones. You see, there was this evil git called Voldemort, who sought to take over the world and kill all those he though un worthy to live amongst the 'Pureblood' wizards." She spat bitterly. "Which included me. I'm what they call a Muggleborn. I was born with non magical parents and for some reason, it makes me unworthy."

"So, you fought for the light?" She nodded. "Well, did you win?"

She smiled again. "Yes, we won. My best friend, Harry Potter was the one who killed Voldemort. Unfortunately," Tears began to gather. It had been a while since she had spoken about the war. Or even thought about it. "We lost many witches and wizards who didn't deserve to die." Her voice was thick with emotion. "Many, many great people." She muttered.

Lancelot looked down at the girl, her eyes full of tears and glassy with pain. "Hey, if it helps, it is a great honour here for someone to die for a cause they believe in. My forefathers have all died in battles and I plan to do the same." He said quietly.

She smiled to herself. Oh, how true it was. "Thank you." She said almost shyly.

"Welcome." He replied, before standing up. "But you, Lady, will not be spending all night out in the snow again." He said, before untying her wrist and pulling her up. "I am a gentleman. Unlike those brutes." Lancelot joked as she thanked him.

Lancelot took Hermione over to a tent where the dim glow of a candle formed the silhouettes of two women. "Lady, I ask your permission to leave another woman in your care." He stated quite formally.

The head of Marius' wife poked out. "If you wish. There is plenty room." She said politely. Her kind eyes scrutinised Hermione before she nodded to herself and held the flaps of the tent open for Hermione.

Animal skins lined the floor of the tent, presumably for a good night's sleep. "Thank you, My Lady." Hermione said, using proper etiquette. "My name is Hermione." She said, acknowledging both women, recognising the wounded woman from earlier in the morning.

"My name is Fulcinia." Marius' wife said kindly, her eyes crinkling as she smiled.

"Guinevere." The other said humbly. Hermione stifled a gasp. Guinevere. _The_ Guinevere. Never in all her life had Hermione ever thought she'd be meeting the wife of King Arthur. Or King Arthur himself, for that matter.

"Pleased to meet you." Hermione said politely, feeling slightly awkward in front of the Queen to be. So this was the true story of how Arthur met his Guinevere. It was... amazingly romantic. Not at all like she had been led to believe. She couldn't wait to tell Dumbledore about this.

"Tell me, Hermione. Why is it you travel with these men? Are they not Knights?" Guinevere asked, curiosity gaining the best of her.

Hermione stared at Guinevere. She was being addressed by _Lady Guinevere_. "I – uh... well, I can't really say. But they rescued me from the Bishop back at Hadrian's Wall." She said. "Maybe one day I'll tell you."

"Why can't you tell us?" Fulcinia asked, peering at the younger girl. "We will not tell a soul." She looked at Hermione with such honesty that she almost hugged the older woman. "You have my word."

"And mine." Guinevere chimed in.

Hermione sighed. "It's a long story and you must not – I stress, must not judge me on what I say. Please." The two women nodded at her and she felt her heart glow slightly with pride. "Well, you see, I'm a witch." She stated warily, watching the other women for their reactions. They simply waited for her to continue. "And I come from thousands of years in the future. I ended up going into an enchanted forest and somehow, I ended up falling into the middle of a field at Hadrian's Wall." She told them. They listened intently still, not passing judgement just as she had asked.

"When I crash landed, the Bishop saw it and he immediately took things out of context, screaming 'Witch, witch! She must be burnt!' and well, the knights saved me from being burnt, stating simply that I was a woad and must have been spying." She told them of how Arthur had stood up to the Bishop, of how he had made sure she was to accompany them on the mission. When she was done, they smiled at her and took her hands.

Guinevere was the first to notice the lacerations and she ran her finger over them. "If these knights rescued you, then why do they tie you to a horse and mark your wrists so unkindly? Are they distrusting of you?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's that wretch, Horton. _He_ thinks I'll murder him in his sleep, so the Knights do what they can to please him. After all, he is secretary to the Bishop himself." She said, rubbing at the raw skin on her wrists. "I understand that, but honestly, I am getting so entirely sick of it..." She trailed off, leaving her dangerous tone to fade.

Guinevere smiled faintly, her head bowing. She looked up and met the eyes of Fulcinia and they nodded to one another. "I must go now. Hermione, leave this camp and head eighty-six paces into the trees, that way." Guinevere pointed toward the other end of the tent. Hermione nodded and Guinevere stood, smoothing the silk of her skirt. "I shall keep Lancelot busy. Don't worry, you'll return safely."

Hermione stood, too, smoothing out the fabric of her own crimson coloured dress. "Where exactly am I going?"

"There is someone who wishes to meet you." Guinevere told Hermione mysteriously. "Don't worry," She chuckled. "You will be fine. No harm will come to you."

"Okay..." Hermione said uncertainly. "I will be back soon, Lady Fulcinia." Fulcinia wished them both luck, understanding that each woman had tasks to do, and they left, Hermione after Guinevere.

Guinevere began making conversation with Lancelot, and Hermione could sense the tension between them as she walked silently past, wishing she had her wand to cast an illusion spell. She walked in the same silence for eighty paces and stopped, looking for any sign of where her next six paces would lead her. Nothing.

Frowning, Hermione took her final six paces and stood in the silence, waiting. It didn't take long for a hand to land on her shoulder. She squealed in surprise and her body jolted. The deep voice of a man covered in black and blue paint chuckled.

"Hermione Granger." He rasped. "I have been expecting you." He said, bowing his head. "I am Merlin."

Hermione gasped and quickly curtsied. "Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, I didn't recognise you – the books –" She rambled, before he stopped her with a wave of his hand.

He chuckled again, his brown eyes twinkling much like Dumbledore's with mirth. "Calm down, child. I forgive you." He laughed. "But I have a task for you." Hermione nodded eagerly. "Stay with the Knights. Help them. Do all you can to persuade them to fight. Fight for Britain." She nodded, and he continued. "In their hearts, they belong to this land, but in their minds, they belong to nothing. They love no one. No place. Their hearts are darkened and cold."

"What can _I_ do about it?" She wasn't sure where this was leading.

"Change it, Hermione. Save their souls."

"You're beginning to sound like a Christian." She muttered, earning a laugh from Merlin.

"I know you can do it, Hermione. Follow your instincts; I hear they're pretty good." He said mysteriously, much like Guinevere. She was about to ask, but he touched her forehead and a warm shock ran through her body.

She suddenly saw images of swords, shields and other weaponry. When her eyes fluttered open, Merlin was gone and she felt the insane urge to try out her magic.

"Without a wand?" She asked herself. "Wandless magic. Right." Her hand shot out in front of her. "Expecto Patronum!" She said loudly. An otter formed in the darkness, illuminating the trees around her with its eerie blue light. She jumped back in surprise and the otter faded. "Oh Merlin!" She grinned to herself and repeated the incantation. This time, Hermione kept her concentration and the otter ran around the trees, darting in front of her eyes from place to place joyfully.

Hermione smiled and the otter disappeared into thin air. Hermione suddenly felt a lot lighter as she walked back to the camp, knowing exactly where she was going. It seemed Merlin was on her side.


	6. Dear, dear Marius

**Chapter Six**

Lady Fulcinia, Hermione decided, was an odd woman. She'd been so calm when Hermione had told her of her Magical Blood. She was also quiet, but had a wonderfully sarcastic sense of humour. However, she would never let her husband know that. Never. She had told Hermione that her husband expected her to be a good wife, always doing as she was told and never thinking for herself.

Hermione didn't like her husband. For obvious reasons. As they travelled along the mountains, she'd realised he was a complete prick. Always hiding with his guards and plotting things. But she didn't care about him. What bothered her was that Lady Fulcinia seemed perfectly fine with Hermione's magic.

So, she decided she would confront Fulcinia. "Fulcinia," She whispered from her horse as she rode along beside Fulcinia, who was watching her son as he spoke to some of the peasants pleasantly. The lady in question looked at Hermione with a smile. "I was wondering, why didn't you – I don't mean to sound ungrateful – but I just wanted to know why it doesn't scare you that I'm a witch?" She finally managed to ask.

Fulcinia smiled grimly. "I knew you'd ask eventually, Hermione Granger." Her voice was silky as she spoke, her brown eyes connecting with Hermione's. "I have known you are a witch since I sensed your presence. You see, dear child, I am a witch, too." She whispered back, smiling at Hermione's shocked expression.

"You are?" She asked incredulously. Fulcinia nodded. "Wow. I'd never have guessed." She grinned. "You hide it well." She remarked. Fulcinia smiled widely and spurred her horse on further to catch up with her son. Hermione smiled as she realised that her son, the future bishop, was part Wizard. Oh, the irony.

"What are you so happy about, Lady?" It was Lancelot again. He rode up beside her. "You seem to be enjoying your captivity." He remarked.

She smiled at him and he looked at her, amused. "Well, now that I'm not being tied up like an animal, I find I quite enjoy being around these people. Especially since I'm not the only witch here." She told him mysteriously. He looked at her questioningly but she shrugged and smiled.

"Wonderful." He said dryly. She chuckled beside him. "Do you like this place, Hermione?" He asked suddenly, seeming to be in deep thought about his own question.

She frowned. "Well, it's not exactly home, but it's nice. I'd like to think I'm going to go home eventually." She said, thinking of her friends and family with a slight air of sadness. How she missed them. But she couldn't go home. She had a task.

"It is quite beautiful. But you never notice these things until you're almost gone." He said. Oddly enough, she knew what he meant. "Well, I suppose we should all be grateful for what we've got... but I can't help feeling there's more out there." He gave her a pointed look and rode off to catch up with Arthur.

She sighed. Of course there was more out there. However, she couldn't help but smile as Galahad and Gawain rode up beside her. It seemed that she was going to have quite a social life today. "Hello, dear knights." She chirped. "How goes the trek?" She asked happily.

Galahad smiled as he noticed her light brown eyes alight with relaxation. She looked so peaceful and blissful that he couldn't help but smile, despite the fact that in the back of his mind he knew the Saxons were catching up fast. "The trek goes well, Lady Hermione." He responded.

Gawain inwardly sighed. His best friend had deserted him. For a witch. Of course, he hadn't _really _deserted him, he'd just fallen in love. Well, Gawain knew Galahad was in love. But Galahad wouldn't see it for quite some time. The way Galahad had constantly been glancing at her, with both curiosity and awe as she rode along and spoke to other people. He'd seen how Galahad had become jealous of Lancelot's conversation; though he knew his best friend would never admit it. It was there. Love. Horrible thing, Gawain thought dryly.

"Galahad," Hermione asked curiously. "Have you ever been in love?" She asked almost shyly. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink colour and Galahad found himself staring at her. "Galahad?"

Oh, Galahad was useless. "No, he hasn't." Gawain answered for him. "Nor have I. We find no time for love. Barely even enough time for a quick romp in the haystacks." He laughed, not at his words, but the way Galahad flushed and looked over at Hermione embarrassed.

"That's you, Gawain." He grumbled. "I'm much more gentlemanly. _You_ on the other hand," He continued cockily. "Can't seem to stick to one lass." Oh, he was trying to be _noble_, was he?

Gawain chuckled. "Well, I'd like to find my perfect match." This made Galahad chuckle. "Love is meant to be tried and tested. So, if I'm doing the testing, I _know_ I'm going to find someone who is absolutely brilliant for me."

"Maybe someone who can keep you in line for once." Galahad quipped. Hermione laughed and he found he really liked the sound of it.

"And you, Galahad? What of love for you? Do you believe in it?" She asked curiously, her brown eyes locked onto his dark orbs.

He laughed, a smile making its way to his handsome face. "You, Lady Hermione, are too curious for your own good." He countered, hoping to avoid her question.

"And you are avoiding my question, Sir Galahad." She said, biting her lip playfully. That was the end of the conversation, as Hermione knew he was avoiding it for a reason, and she would let him be. For now.

They stopped for a break halfway through the day, setting up fires and tending to the wounded. Hermione set off toward the back of the group, tending to the younger children first. She found one with whip marks on his back, bruises on his cheek and a nasty gash up his arm.

"Who did this to you?" She asked him kindly, ruffling his light curls soothingly as he flinched from the contact of the cloth, cleaning the dried blood from his wounds.

He looked up at her with big blue eyes. "I was punished, m'lady." Tears filled his eyes as she pressed the healing oil into the long cuts. She gulped down her urge to pull the boy close.

"What did you do?" She was being curious again.

He turned around. "I insulted Marius. I called him a big idiot for yelling at my mama." Hermione was outraged. But she kept her rage at bay, tending to the other wounds on the child's body. Some _Lord_, Marius was.

She walked sadly back toward the top of the group, the weight on her shoulders feeling heavier than ever. It was so hard for those people. Constant poverty, evil lords and now they had to run from Saxons. And Hermione knew it could get worse.

There was a yell from further up. Hermione's head whipped up at the sound, her heart thudding painfully as she ran toward the source. She found it, alright.

"Let the boy go!" Arthur shouted. "Or you will die." He finished darkly.

Hermione saw Marius pale as he stood, a knife to the throat of the young boy Dagonet had adopted.

"You won't dare to kill me." He seethed, glaring at everyone. "The bishop will have your head."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "_They_ may abide by the laws of the Bishop, but _I _do not. So, put down the boy, or _I_ will kill you." She said calmly, drawing a sword from the nearest person.

"Hah! A woman, kill _me_? You would die before your sword rose, girl!" He sneered back.

Her jaw set, Hermione took a step forward. "Are you willing to put your life on that?" She felt the power enter her body, her hands ready to do the work, as if they had done it so many times before.

Marius laughed. "You are nothing but a worthless woman!" He spat, the knife pressing more firmly into the child's throat.

"Hermione..." Arthur warned.

"Let me do this." She looked at him, poised and ready to defend her. "Alone. It is not worth risking your freedom."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Fine, but be careful." She smiled brilliantly at him and he felt pride well within.

"So, Marius, you have two choices. You let the child go and you live. Or, you refuse and you die. Really, it's up to you." She was so calm on the outside, though panic rose from her chest.

"I would slit his throat before you even came close." He threatened.

"Oh, get over yourself." She muttered, before launching herself at him.

A guard intercepted her, his own sword drawn, but he was no match for her. In a flurry of swipes and hits, he was down. She managed to kick one of the other two in groin, causing him to fall to the ground in pain, and elbow the last one in the temple, sending him unconscious. Then she turned to Marius.

And Marius was already dead.


	7. Helena's Dreams

**Chapter Seven**

Galahad watched as Hermione fought. Then he watched as Guinevere took aim and shot an arrow straight through Marius' head. Lucan ran into Dagonet's arms before Marius could fall slackly to the ground with a dead thud. A slight victory smile made its way to his face, before Arthur stepped up, sword pointed at the guards, who were just regaining their balance.

"You can either surrender and help us with these people, or we can feed you to the Saxons." He said loudly, head held high.

"It's your choice, really." Lancelot added from his place.

Hermione moved to stand near Guinevere just as the guard threw down their swords. Arthur smiled triumphantly and Hermione gave a smirk of satisfaction toward the guards, who looked at her carefully, fearing her for the first time.

"Good move." Lancelot offered a smirk of his own and collected the swords, along with Tristan, who examined them with interest.

Gawain turned to Hermione. "Well done, my Lady." He bowed to her graciously and she inclined her head, attempting to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Exceptional fighting skills."

"Indeed, Lady Hermione." Lancelot added admirably. "It is a wonder that a lady can fight so naturally and fiercely."

Horton stepped forward, and Hermione felt a chill down her spine as he stared at her. "A wonder, yes. Almost... unnatural." His eyes narrowed and Hermione gulped, her nerves getting the best of her. "One would think it was _witchcraft_."

"There will be no talk of that while there are ladies present, sir." Galahad said, interrupting the Bishop's Man. "You will not be speaking to Lady Hermione like that, or you will lose your head."

"Because she will lose her temper." Gawain added hastily, making sure Galahad didn't incriminate himself.

"Enough of this talk for now." Arthur intervened. "Come, we must keep moving if we want to have crossed the river my nightfall. Or the Saxons will no doubt catch up with us." He jumped back on his horse and the other knights followed, just as Bors came thundering into the clearing.

"ARTORIOUS!" He shouted loudly. "Is there a problem?" He asked casually.

Hermione let out a laugh. "No, Bors, there is no problem now." She said.

He looked down and smiled at her. "Alright, then, Lady. Care for a ride to your horse?" He asked, offering his arm to her.

"No thank you, Bors. I think I'll walk amongst the people for a bit." Her eyes travelled over the crowds of people, some of them, barely moving with a speed faster than an injured turtle. "By the looks of things, they need all the help they can get. See if you can get some of the more injured people and a few children on horses, would you?"

Her eyes were locked onto his and he was reminded of his wife. He smiled. "Aye, I'll try."

"Thank you." She smiled.

"No problem, My Lady. Just be careful down there, then." He said and galloped up to the head of the large group in search of spare horses.

"You have a way with people, Hermione." Guinevere said, taking the younger girl's arm. "And a way with the knights."

Hermione felt a blush creep up again as the pack started moving. "Thank you, Lady Guinevere."

"Tell me, where you come from, is it a custom for you to help others, though you know nothing of their name?" Hermione nodded and Guinevere smiled. "You show much kindness and I think it will be your fate to change our lives for the better."

She was reminded of Luna at that moment, with her serene riddles and wisdom. She smiled. "I hope so."

"It has already started. Already you have touched the hearts of the knights. In more ways than you know." Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. Guinevere laughed. "Happiness is right in front of you, Hermione. You just have look in order to see it."

"It isn't happiness for myself that I seek." She replied, stopping. "I want to see people here live better lives. I want to see a change within humanity. Just as Merlin asked me to. What makes me happy can't be found here." She told the older woman passionately.

"What makes you happy then?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Home." She smiled. "My boys, Harry and Ron, though they're fighting over a girl at the moment and driving me crazy, are my best friends. We've been through everything together." She mused, smiling. "They know when I'm upset, and sometimes are too stubborn to apologise, but when they do, they can make my heart soar."

Guinevere smiled, seeing images of a redheaded boy and a boy with curly black hair and blazing green eyes. They were hugging the younger Hermione, laughing and joking. Then there was one of fighting. An evil wizard drawing his wand and aiming at the green eyed boy.

The green eyed boy stood tall and two figures appeared behind him; Hermione and the other boy. Together, the three of them looked proud and fearless in the face of danger.

She was pulled out of her trance of images by Hermione's talking. "Then there's Hogwarts. That's my school. I go there to learn magic." She told Guinevere with a soft smile. "It's home, it's a place I can feel... safe, though I've been in so much danger there before."

"So... that makes you happy?"

"Yes, yes it does. It's the most amazing feeling in the world. When you feel like you just belong somewhere, it's like you can't breathe when you're not near it." She told her.

"And what of love for yourself? I overheard you asking Galahad about it earlier. You seemed so intrigued by the idea."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, no. Love is only for the beautiful people. I thought I was in love once, but as it turns out, it wasn't right." She smiled. Guinevere frowned. "What?"

"You said it's only for the beautiful people. Don't you count as beautiful?"

Hermione looked down. "Well, I-I've never been told otherwise."

Guinevere felt a pang of pain. "Oh, Hermione." She sympathised. "Every woman, every man, with a heart that has care to it, every single one of them is beautiful. You are beautiful. There's no reason anyone should tell you that you're not."

Hermione smiled brightly. "Thank you."

Guinevere gave her a warm smile and looked down to find a small child walking along beside them, trying to keep up in her grubby little dress. "Hello there." She smiled, offering her hand to the small blonde girl.

The blonde girl looked up shyly through her lashes and took Guinevere's hand. "You're the lady in my dreams." She whispered. "I've seen you before." She then turned to Hermione. "And you. You've been there, too, my lady."

Hermione and Guinevere were stunned to silence. "Who are you, young one?" Guinevere asked, looking down at her as they walked.

"I am Helena." She said shyly. "You marry the Great King." Helena said, tugging at one of her braids. "Queen of the Free Land, saving the innocents. Enforcing justice alongside your husband, with the Mighty Excalibur."

Hermione inwardly smiled. "And what did you see of me, Lady Helena?" She asked.

The girl blushed and smiled again. "Sir Galahad's fair maiden, is what I saw." Hermione turned the shade of a tomato, all of the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Guinevere gave off a laugh. "Enough of that, now." She said, tugging on the Helena's hand as they kept up with the rest of the trailing group. The sky began to darken with clouds, the promise of more snow weighing heavily on their shoulders.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat as they reached an iced-over lake, spanning all the way across their path. She looked back behind the big group of people, and though she was unable to see the Saxons, she could definitely hear their heavy marching, like the sound of a beating drum.

"Come, we must speak with the knights." Guinevere said, leading Hermione to the front of the crowd, where the knights stood, discussing their next move.

"We cannot outrun them." Lancelot said strongly from his horse. "They will catch us and slaughter these people."

"I say we stand and fight." Tristan added, playing with the string of his bow. "They are not far behind us. The least we can do is hold them off."

"You are both right." Arthur said. "We fight." He called to one of the peasant men and instructed him to lead the others to safety. "Take them to the other side and do not stop, understood?"

"But it's seven men against an army! You can't expect to win!" He protested loudly.

"Nine." Guinevere corrected. "You need all the help you can get. We're going to fight." She gestured to Hermione and herself. Hermione nodded in strong agreement.

"Fine. But be careful." The peasant man told them all, before clearing his throat and yelling instructions for the people, who willingly followed him across the frozen lake.

Galahad paled. "You shouldn't endanger yourselves, Ladies." He told them, his cheeks warming as Hermione glared at him.

"You fight for a cause. As do we. We fight together." She retorted calmly.

"Fine. Come on, I can hear them coming closer." Arthur said, striding across the to the other side of the lake.

They lined up, side by side as the sound of the marching got ever closer. Hermione was given a long sword and a bow and quiver of arrows. She stood confidently between Galahad and Guinevere, her heart thudding in her chest.

"Are you scared?" She head Lancelot ask Guinevere. "There are a lot of lonely men coming this way."

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Guinevere smirk. "Don't worry; I won't let them rape you." She said calmly. Hermione stifled a giggle and looked straight ahead just as they came into sight, led by a bald man with a dirty look on his face.

"They're quite intimidating, aren't they?" She asked Galahad uneasily. Now that she saw them, she wasn't sure she could face them.

"Not really. An opponent is an opponent. It isn't his presence that scares me, it's whether or not I have the skill to kill them." She looked at him and his eyes met hers, softening into a warm shade of brown. "Do not be afraid. If they touch you, I'll rip them to shreds."

The corners of her lips twitched up into a slight smile and her cheeks reddened, remembering the words of the little girl from earlier. _'Sir Galahad's fair maiden'_. "Uh, thanks, Galahad." She grinned, before focusing her eyes on the Saxons.

Cautiously, they stepped on to the ice, a great groan issuing from the unsteady surface below their feet. "SPREAD OUT!" The bald leader shouted to his men. They obliged, looking menacing as their steps became more confident and they marched closer.

Guinevere and Tristan knocked an arrow to the bow and aimed for the sky. Hermione followed suit, her hands seemingly doing more than what she thought she knew. Slowly, she pulled back, aiming for a spot amidst the clouds.

"Fire." Guinevere said quietly. All three of them let fire, the arrows each finding targets. They fell with a simultaneous thud on the ice and silence over took the Saxons. The leader looked up, making eye contact with Arthur, fury leaking from him.

He gave a cry of anger and started his march across the ice. "Aim for the sides." Guinevere told Hermione. "Make them cluster; we may be able to drown them."

Hermione swallowed and nodded determinedly. Arrow after arrow was fired and the Saxons moved closer together, despite the protest of their leader. They continued across the ice, and Bors looked grim. "The ice isn't breaking!"

"We have to face them!" Lancelot shouted, drawing his swords.

Hermione's eyes flickered to him before letting another arrow loose. She kept firing, when suddenly, Dagonet branched out from them and ran toward the Saxons. "DAGONET!" Bors shouted after him. "Cover him, cover him!" He shouted as the Saxons began to fire at him with their own cross bows.

Hermione, Guinevere and Tristan began firing arrows straight away, aiming for the archers. An arrow connected with Dagonet just as he knelt to the ground, his axe driving into the ice with a force that made the ground shake.

A mighty crack sprouted from the wound in the ice, but it wasn't enough. He began to hack at the ice, the innocent face of Lucan running through his mind, determination heating his muscles.

"No! It's not working!" Hermione cried, dropping her bow and arrows.

"What are you doing?!" Bors shouted.

She ignored him and her hands rose in the air. Summoning strength from within her, she concentrated on Dagonet's form, the shower of arrows making marks on his body. A silver film formed around him and the arrows bounded off, going back to their original masters and hitting them squarely in the chest.

Suddenly, the ice broke. The cracks spread quickly across the white surface, the Saxons backing away. "RUN!" The leader shouted to his men. They obeyed, but most of them weren't fast enough. The ice snapped into pieces and they fell through with screams of terror.

Dagonet smirked at his handy work one last time, before he fell into darkness.

Hermione gasped as Dagonet fell into the water and gulped down the lump in her throat. _C'mon... c'mon..._ she concentrated. _Wingardium leviosa!_ She shouted in her mind.

With a sudden burst of energy, Dagonet's still body burst from the icy hell and floated in the air toward them and into the waiting arms of Bors.

"No, Dagonet, no..." He sobbed into the knight's chest.

"Bors, I might still be able to save him!" Hermione said, running to them.

"Well, by GODS WOMAN! Do it!" He shouted, making her flinch. He lowered Dagonet to the ground and put his cloak around his best friend.

The knights and Guinevere watched in awe as Hermione knelt beside him. "Sun and sky, warmth of summer, keep this man's heart to flutter." She chanted, wondering just _where _that spell had come from. Her hands were on his chest and warmth filled them.

A golden glow enveloped Dagonet's body and the water dried up. His heart gave a great big thud and a rhythm settled, his eyes flickered open and his breath came in sharply.

"Dagonet!" Bors cried happily, pulling the other man into a hug.

"Be careful with him." Hermione said. "Please, he's still very ill. He's not out of the woods just yet." She told them gently. But she knew he was safe. Dagonet would make it to freedom, after all.


	8. Punch the Bishop?

**Alright, alright, I'm SORRY! Forgive me??? I've been so caught up with all the year twelve bullshit that I haven't had much time to do this! I've tried, I really have, and I'm sorry that it's such a short chapter. But enjoy it, none-the-less.**

**Chapter Eight**

Hadrian's Wall came into view and Hermione felt relief flood her. "There it is!" Someone called from the large pack of followers. "We've done it!"

"Well done, Sir Arthur." Guinevere's silky voice came from the front of the pack as she walked alongside the knight. "You and your knights have done well."

"It is thanks to everyone that we made it here." He said gruffly, though a slight tone of relief laced his words. Hermione smiled at his flushed cheeks. Rolling her eyes fondly, she continued on without comment. He was beginning to remind her of Harry, she mused sadly.

An hour later, they entered the gates. Cheers drifted from the followers and relief seemed to radiate from them all.

As the villagers settled in the small settlements, Hermione was taken with the knights, Guinevere and the Roman Family to the keep, where they were met by the Bishop.

"Arthur Castus! And your knights! Welcome back! Welcome back!" He exclaimed jovially, though there was definitely an undertone to his voice. "You succeeded, I see!" He was beaming at them, and Hermione felt evil roll off him in waves. He waltzed over to the carriage and pulled Alecto out and embraced him, ignoring Fulcinia. "Where is Marius?"

"He did not make it." Alecto said quickly, shooting a glance at the knights. "He fell ill." He lied.

Hermione stifled a smile as the Bishop frowned. "Oh. No matter." He continued. "It is so good to see you, Alecto. How much you have grown!" He exclaimed. Germanius then had the family escorted inside to private chambers, where they could rest.

"Now, if you don't mind, Bishop, my knights would like their papers." Arthur said coldly, gesturing to the tired and worn down knights. None so worn as Dagonet, who had managed to push down his heightening fever to collect his payment.

"Of course, of course!" The Bishop said, gesturing for the scrolls to be bought forward. He was handed a wooden box and opened it, waiting for the knights to collect. "You are free."

Lancelot stepped forward, grinning in triumph as he took each scroll and handed it to the owner. "We're done here." He said, sending a hard look at the Bishop.

It was by mischance and possible bad luck that said Bishop's eyes landed on the curly-haired witch, who had been standing idly by, watching as each face of the band of knights lit up with glee when handed their scrolls of release. "You? You're still alive?"

Hermione glared at him. "It appears so. Yes." She answered coldly.

"Why have you not killed the woad, yet, Knights?" He asked, looking angrier by the second. "I thought you said that this _woad_ would be useful for one thing only – you have no need for her now."

"She has redeemed herself, Bishop." Tristan said quietly. The Bishop's head snapped up to look at the offender. "She saved the life of one of our own. She is the reason Dagonet lives."

"If you touch her, you die." Gawain said coolly.

The Bishop glared around him. "You would not dare to harm me. For a witch, too." He spat, his eyes connecting with Hermione's for a second, before he glanced away, a new idea dawning in his head. He smiled uncharacteristically. "No matter, you can keep your whore."

Rage filled Hermione and before anyone had the chance to stop her, before the Bishop had the chance to smirk, she found herself stepping forward in one quick motion and connecting her fist with his nose in a crunch.

His head whipped back and a yell of pain emitted from his mouth. Hermione was pulled back roughly by Galahad, and the guards were instantly standing with their spears in her direction.

"Arrest her!" The Bishop spluttered, wiping the blood from his nose.

"No!" Galahad defended.

Arthur looked from Galahad to the Bishop. He needed to diffuse the situation quickly. "Galahad, let them take her." He said, seriously. He then looked at the guards as she was reluctantly released into their custody. "If you harm her, I will kill you." He said coolly.

Hermione shouted. "Let me GO!" She struggled against their rough hands and reached out for Arthur. "You bastard!" She yelled, glaring him furiously. "Traitor! You said I'd be safe!" They took her away kicking and screaming and threw her roughly into a dungeon that smelt like it had been subject to all kinds of prisoners.

As they locked the iron door, she slumped to the ground, feeling betrayed. How could they allow her to be bound up – again? Bastards. She scowled, wondering how long they'd keep her in here for.

**~The Legendary~**

"Psst! Lady Hermione!" She jolted upright, her neck creaking in the process. She turned to find Galahad watching her through the bars. "I'm sorry." He said sincerely.

She crawled to the bars, ignoring the protests of her aching bones. "So you should be." She said snappily, but her features soon changed to relief. "But thank you for coming." She whispered.

He grinned at her grateful tone. "I really am sorry. You must understand that Arthur..."

"He didn't want to cause any more conflict. I get it, Galahad. It's fine. But please, don't just sit there. Tell me you've come to get me out." She begged, her hands reaching through the iron bars to grasp one of his. She knew it was cruel and manipulative, but she felt the bites of the fleas and the stench of the cell was beginning to overwhelm her already. She _had_ to get out.

He looked at her, hazel coloured eyes shining with something that was unknown to him. She knelt in front of him and withdrew her hands at his silence. He wanted them back immediately. "Hermione, I – well, can't you _magic_ yourself out?" He questioned, looking hopeful.

She hesitated. "I-I can't... I mean, it'll be difficult to do... especially because I don't have a wand... I could splinch myself." She muttered, more to herself than the company.

"Splinch?" He asked, confused. She looked up at him and bit her lip. "You can't do it?"

"I don't think so..." She admitted. Oh, if Harry and Ron could see her now! "It's a little too dangerous. I could lose a body part."

Galahad watched as she sat back, defeated. He frowned. "Look, I'll try to get you out of here. I promise I'll try my hardest." He said sincerely.

Hermione smiled slightly, her heart fluttering as the knight before her ran a hand through his messy hair and promised to break her free of her prison cell. She almost laughed out loud at the cliché she was currently in. "Thank you, Galahad. Really, I appreciate that."

He smiled and her heart jolted. "I've got to go, Hermione. I will return. I promise." He said, grasping her hand briefly through the bars. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment and she couldn't help the shy smile that crossed her lips as he looked away quickly, his cheeks colouring.

"Bye Galahad." She said softly as he released her hand reluctantly. He made his way out of the dungeons, headed straight for the pub, feeling the need to drown his sorrows... and possibly find Arthur.

"Galahad!" Bors roared with merriment. He waltzed over and clapped the slightly younger man on the shoulder. "How goes our Lady Hermione in her prison?" He asked, looking worried. After all, she _had_ saved his best mate.

Galahad sighed. "She is strong. But I don't know how long she can last." He said glumly, as Tristan and Gawain joined the pair.

"She'll be fine." Tristan said wisely.

"Can't she use her magic?" Gawain asked curiously. He studied his closest companion and smiled as he saw a spark of unhappiness for the young girl behind his eyes. Galahad was warming up to the girl very quickly.

Galahad shook his head regretfully. "She said it's too dangerous to try. Something could go very wrong."

"Lady Hermione will survive for the night. But tomorrow, I suggest we speak with Arthur. Come now, boys, I challenge you lot to another game of Target." Tristan said, pulling the knife from his belt.

Galahad and Gawain simultaneously groaned. "There goes the last of my coins." Gawain muttered, pulling his own knife from the sheaf.

Bors excused himself to go and find Vanora whilst Galahad took aim, imagining his target was the shiny bald head of the Bishop that locked up the fair woman who wouldn't leave his tired mind alone.


	9. Here's to the Bishop

**I'm very sorry, please accept my apologies. I've been SOOOO busy, you have no idea. But here we go. It's a bit short, but I hope you like it. :)**

**Chapter Nine**

Hermione sighed as she paced again. Her dress was filthy and she'd been in this wretched cell for THREE days. Galahad had come every day – sometimes twice, and she had had other numerous visitors, including Guinevere, who had smuggled in some good food for her. But she was growing restless. She was confined to this cell with nothing to do all day, but wait, and maybe practice a little magic. Not to mention the countless hours she'd spent thinking about Ron and Harry – worrying about them and their little predicament. Hermione wondered if they were missing her – she was certainly missing them.

She sighed huffily as the guards threw her some bread and placed a pitcher of water in her cell. The guards gave her grim smiles and she returned them, wondering just why they were being so kind to her. She guessed Arthur and the knights had given them words.

Suddenly there was a yell, and the door to the dungeons slammed open. "Delco, Humigh, the Saxons are here!" An unknown guard shouted, frantically gesturing to the door. "They're calling us to the wall, all of us." He said hurriedly, and the guards followed him out the door, armour clanking.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath. She had to get out. Right that very second, and help them fight off the wretched Saxons. Looking around, she saw that the dungeons were deserted, the executions having been carried out that morning. Her eyes focused on the first step, leading up to the door. Closing her eyes and picturing that step in her mind, she concentrated, her mind going blank, only the image of that step circling through her mind.

Nothing. "Bugger."

**~The Legendary~**

The Bishop scowled at the sight before him. The Saxons were camped out in front of the castle, attempting to intimidate them. It was working, but he wasn't going to admit that. He called for Arthur. "We are leaving. I will not endanger the lives of Romans by staying. You are very welcome to follow." He said, before leaving the Head Knight standing to face his own knights.

Horton caught up with him easily. "Sir, this could be an advantage." He said, smirking up at the taller, more powerful of the two. "By allowing the Saxons to invade, we do not have to battle these Britons for this land. One of our problems has been solved." He said, watching as the Bishop's face began to change from a scowl to a smirk, identical to that of his manservant.

"You are very right, Horton. We shall leave Britain to the Saxons." He smiled, quite satisfied with his brilliant mind.

**~The Legendary~**

Hermione huffed for the umpteenth time in twenty minutes. She closed her eyes again, took a deep breath – again, and concentrated. _The step. The first step. I need to be there_. She thought, and feeling the sensation of being squeezed, smiled when she opened her eyes, standing on the first step leading up to the door.

She ran up the stairs, checking that she had everything – all of her body parts that is, and out the doors, through a maze of stone walls until she was officially lost. She sighed angrily, feeling the grime and dirt in every inch of her skin. But there was no time to be lost – or dirty, because the Saxons were going to attack. "Argh!" She shouted in frustration.

She picked up the pace, hoping to find _someone_, who could take her outside, maybe give her a bath, and she could put up protective wards on the castle. She bit down on her lip, each step echoing through the unusually quiet castle. Where was everyone?

BANG! She fell backwards, landing on her bum with absolutely no grace whatsoever. "So sorry –" She began, but stopped, when she realised who it was.

"So the witch has escaped, I see." The Bishop announced to his manservant, an evil grin on his face. "Horton, bind her. I have the perfect _gift_ for our Saxon friends."

Hermione let out a gasp of outrage, standing quite fast and turning from the two 'holy men', her feet attempting to run. But before she even made it three steps, something hit her in the back of the head and she fell to the ground, into unconsciousness.

When Hermione awoke, the first thing she felt was the rope around her wrists. She opened her eyes in an instant, the feeling of something moving between her legs un pleasantly, and finally looking down to find herself bound to a horse, headed toward some kind of camp. The sun was going down, the camp fires flaring into life as the horse approached.

Panic filled her when her eyes focused in on her intended receivers, the Saxons. She struggled against her bonds, desperately wishing for her wand. "No, no, no..." She hissed, doom threatening to knock her out again.

She pulled at the reins desperately, but the horse was determined to find humans, and shelter from the snow. She mentally kicked the horse. "Bugger." She said, defeated.

When they finally caught sight of her, the whole army was brought to the edge of the camp, three men, leaders, Hermione guessed, made their way toward her, their weapons ready. They spoke to each other in their own language as she finally approached, now sitting on the horse properly, her mind at the ready to fling a spell.

**Meanwhile**, Galahad frowned as he entered the dungeons to find them empty. Where was Hermione? Just then the doors opened and Arthur walked in, his blue eyes filled with worry.

"Galahad." He said, greeting him with a hand on the shoulder. "The Bishop told me that she'd been packed up with the rest of the prisoners, and sent on their way. I told him that you were to take charge of her when you caught up with them."

Galahad stared. "You're not thinking of staying, are you?" He groaned, pressing his palm to his face. "You are a stupid man if you think you can stand against them." He said bluntly.

"I won't be alone. Listen, Galahad, you have been a true friend, and you will always be a knight worthy of true happiness, but this is something I believe in doing. It is my fault this land is in such turmoil, and now, I must fix it." He said humbly, walking out of the dungeons and leaving Galahad to his thoughts.

It wasn't long until he was on the road, searching for the prisoners' cart, having located it. Gawain rode beside him as they came upon it, stopping the Roman guards. "You there, we are here to collect a prisoner." Gawain said, speaking up for his best mate. "A woad girl with bushy hair." He gestured to the cart.

The guard furrowed his brows. "There are no women here." He said, looking confused.

Galahad gave him a glare, pulling his sword from the sheath. "You will tell me where she is, or lose your head." He said dangerously. The guard gulped. "Show me the cart."

The guard complied and opened the rickety cart to reveal men, who looked close to death, cowering in their bonds. Why the Romans would want these men, Galahad and Gawain had no idea. But there was no Hermione.

Gawain growled. "The Bishop." Galahad looked at him, realisation dawning in his eyes.

"The bloody bishop." He agreed, and the two of them rode off to find the Bishop.


	10. IMPORTANT

**The explanation for my absence of chapters and the large amount of time between the last update is down the bottom. Enjoy.**

**Chapter Ten**

Galahad glared at Bishop Germanus as he put on a very innocent face. "I do not know what you are talking about." He denied, looking forward from his position on an abnormally fat horse. "I gave her to the guards. It is not me who has lost her."

Gawain put a hand on Galahad's shoulder to restrain whatever murderous sentence ready to be spewed forth from his mouth. "Bishop, if anything has happened to that girl, you will have it on your conscience." He said, before spurring his horse back toward the end of the line of people, a grim look upon his rugged face.

Galahad followed, hazel eyes searching every person they passed for even the tiniest of familiarity. No such luck. "Perhaps she is with Guinevere? Or somewhere amongst these people." He said, gripping the reins a little tighter.

Gawain shook his head. "I do not know, I'm afraid. All we can do is hope that she is safe and that we will eventually find her." His words, although comforting, did not settle the doubt and worry in Galahad's mind.

**~ The Legendary ~**

Hermione struggled as the rough hands of the Saxon men gripped her by the arms. They were going to bruise, she knew it. She also knew that if Harry or Ron were there… well, they would be gaining an equal amount, if not very many more bruises themselves. Bastards.

"Let me _go_." She bit out, kicking at the third Saxon to approach her. He grabbed her legs and the three of them carried her over to a smaller group of Saxons – including one she recognised; the bald leader from the ice battle. He was speaking to the Saxon whom she presumed to be the leader, with his extra layers of fur and longer hair. She ceased struggling and settled for glaring, hoping that if she concentrated enough, she might blow their brains out somehow.

"Ah, Arthur sends me a gift." The apparent leader said, coming forward. He grasped her chin tightly and looked her over, ignoring her efforts to pull her face away from his hands.

When he let her go, she spoke in cruel voice. "The _Bishop_," She spat, "sends you a gift." She glared at him, eyes trained on his every move. He paced before her, observing her.

He smirked. "So this is the witch who helped murder half of my army." He looked intrigued. "A very small woman… yet I am told you can lift men with your mind." He peered at her so oddly that she almost laughed. He was curious.

"I can, would you like to see me do it?" She said, willing her magic to work. He laughed. "I will kill your men if you do not release me." She said strongly. He laughed again and she felt quite affronted. "You think I won't? Hah! You, sir, are an _idiot_!" She laughed at him and was suddenly struck across the face. She yelped and struggled to clutch her stinging cheek, but she was held tight.

She heard him instruct her captures in their native tongue and she was bound at the hands and a sack was put over her head. Wonderful.

She felt his breath before he spoke. "You have done my son a great shame. And I am glad to oblige him with his request for some time to spend with you."

**Author's notes:**

**I regret to inform you that this story is now up for adoption. This small part of chapter ten is what I managed to write before I was in an unfortunate accident, which has apparently sucked all of the inspiration out of me. I'm sorry I can't continue, it's just that I have lost all drive to continue with this story.**

**However, I won't stop writing fanfiction, merely just cut down on the amount of chaptered stories I have. **


	11. The Missing Muse

**AN: Okay, I'm not sure if anyone still reads this one, and yes, I did offer it up for adoption after I lost my mojo… However, I'm back and I'm keen to re-continue this one. I have noticed that there haven't been any more published versions of this, so I'm assuming nobody actually continued this… So therefore, I shall be re-continuing myself. Enjoy XD**

**Chapter Eleven**

Hermione struggled against her bonds as she was thrown unceremoniously onto some hard ground. Everything was dark, and she felt herself being bound to some sort of post. Her feet were bound in front of her, and she could hear snickering and the odd foreign remark coming from her captives. "You let me go!" She shouted, although she knew to them, it was a mere muffle of words that they couldn't understand.

Everything suddenly went silent. She could hear the rusting of the wind against the tent, the cold breeze chilling her down to her bones. If Harry and Ron could see her now…

She wriggled her ankles, visualising the robes that bound them and took a deep breath, willing them to come undone. A brief warmth touched her skin and she felt the ropes slip. With a triumphant grin beneath the smelly sack on her head, Hermoine concentrated on her hands. After a moment or two, her hands fell free and she quickly pulled the hood off her head.

"Thank Merlin!" She said, looking around for the exit. "I could get used to this wand-less magic thing." She told herself.

"Clever Witch!" Hermione jumped at the words spoken from behind her. She spun around to find the Son of the leader standing between her and the exit. "I wonder what you were planning to do once you got out…" He drawled in slightly broken English.

"What do you want from me?" She demanded, her hands coming up in a fighting stance. "I will kill you if you touch me again."

He laughed cruelly at her words, the sounds of beating drums stirring in the background. "Witches are demons, demons need to be punished." He said, before lunching at her. In a split second Hermione had aimed her hands at him and muttered "_Crucio_".

He began to writhe on the ground, screams leaving his lungs. For a moment, Hermione stared at him, almost in a trance, her heart beat slowing down. She had never used the Cruciatus spell before and it was an alien feeling. A feeling of… power.

She snapped out of it, her head whirling and immediately released her victim. "Oh my –" She stuttered out, shocked at herself. She shuddered and vowed that she would never do that again. He lay on the ground, clutching his head in his hands, gasping for air. With one last pitying look, she hurried out of the tent and into an empty camp. She saw the woods and ran.

**~ The Legendary ~**

Arthur and his horse stood, lonesome on the hill, his banner waving in the wind, his heart beating in time with the Saxon war drums. "ARTORIOUS!" He heard from behind him, and turned to find his fellow knights coming to stand with him.

He nodded to each of them, his eyes hardened, yet a small smile on his face. "Where is Galahad?" He questioned, noting his absence.

"He's searching for Hermione." Gawain responded. "She wasn't in her cell, or with the other prisoners bound for Rome."

Arthur's brow furrowed as the drums got closer and suddenly stopped. It was time.

**Meanwhile…**

Galahad pushed his way through the crowds of peasants, his eyes searching for only one thing – a head of incredibly unruly hair. "Hermione!" He called, but to no avail. "Hermione!"

A small child tugged on his hand. "Sir, sir!" She shouted in a high voice. "Sir Galahad!" He stopped, crouching down to eye level. "I know where Hermione is!" She said urgently. "She was taken to the Saxon camp by the Bishop!" She said.

He frowned. "Smart girl, now go on, find your family and get out of this godforsaken town." He instructed.

"Sir Galahad, she's okay… Merlin will find her." She said and ran off into the crowd before he could question her. He shook his head in resignation, heading for his horse. He clambered on, and galloped toward the hill as a deep mist rose around him.

As he approached his comrades, he nodded to each of them respectively, before coming to a halt next to Gawain, who looked at him questioningly. "No luck." He said. "I just hope she's safe." He muttered, eyes taking in the scene before him.

Before he knew it, Galahad was watching as Arthur galloped his horse toward the Saxon leader, meeting halfway. Words were exchanged, cruel laughter escaping the bearded mouth of the vicious warlord and the signal was given to retreat back into the walls, the inside of which were completely deserted. He shuddered, his heart leaping from his chest as his mind wandered to Hermione. He wandered what she was doing and if she was safe. Of course, Galahad knew she wasn't some weakling woman – she was definitely a fighter, but he couldn't help but think of how miserable life would be without her.

She truly was remarkable, he mused to himself. They had treated her badly on the orders of the Bishop, and she hadn't killed them when God only knew she had the power to. Not to mention the way she had saved Dagonet's life – well, that had just been unreal. But there was something else about her that made Galahad nervous – he wondered if it was the way she had seemed so gentle and caring, yet so fiery with her temper. The effect she had on him when she looked at him, whether it be with a smile, a cheeky grin or in fury – it made his heart flutter in an odd way and he found himself constantly thinking about such moments with her.

A voice interrupted his thoughts. 'What are _you_ smiling about?" Gawain said loudly, an eyebrow cocked.

Galahad cleared his throat. "I'm just imagining how many Saxons are going to lose their heads to my sword today."

Gawain laughed. "Ah, that is a wonderful thought indeed." He agreed, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

Lancelot smirked from beside him, having overheard. "I know what really occupies your thoughts… and she is much better looking than those pretty Saxons with their luscious hair." He grinned, his eyes flickering back and forth as his horse danced nervously on its hooves.

"Wonder what's taking them so long." Tristan said quietly, his eyes averted to the sky in search of his bird.

"They can probably smell you from here!" Bors said loudly with a rumble of laughter.


	12. The Battle

**AN: I hope you enjoyed the last chapter! I'm pretty sure I'm missing bits and pieces from the story line as I'm a little rusty at this, but here's another chapter! Please leave a review and let me know how I'm doing! Constructive criticism is always helpful! :)**

**Chapter Twelve**

The woods were dark and almost silent. In the distance, Hermione could her drums as she ran deeper and deeper, not entirely sure where she was going. She briefly stopped as a particularly nasty branch grazed her cheek and soon enough, she was simply lost.

"Bullocks." She muttered to herself, looking around for any signs of help. She sat down, catching her breath; finally feeling safe – and then she heard it. The draw of a bow string. She stood hands at the ready.

"Who goes there?" A voice came from the shadows.

Hermione swallowed, turning slowly – an attempt to source the voice. "Show yourself!" She said, conjuring a light.

"Lady Hermione?" Instantly, she recognised the voice.

"Guinevere!" She sighed in relief, lowering the glare of her light. "Thank Merlin!" She said, watching as the Lady Guinevere herself emerged from the trees, a coat of war paint covering her skin.

"Why do you thank Merlin?" She asked quizzically, embracing her warmly.

Hermione smiled, "I'll explain later. What's happening, why are you dressed for war?"

Guinevere sighed. "The Roman pigs have fled. The Saxons are coming. Come, Merlin will want to see you." She said pulling Hermione along through the forest swiftly.

As they moved, more Woads became visible, and as they grew closer to the edge of the forest, and the trees thinned, there were more – armed with swords, axes and bows, looking fierce with their blue camouflage markings. She could smell burning, the smoke causing her throat to tighten. Merlin met them soon enough, a frown on his face.

"There you are," He began, his staff by his side, pulsing with magic. "I had been wondering where you had got to." He seemed to direct this at Hermione. "Come, I have a gift for you." He took her hand in his and led her through the crowd of Woads, who waited silently for their signal.

They stopped in front of a stone altar in a small clearing, lingering eyes watching on in curiosity. "This, Hermione Granger, is your path home. Should you choose to take it, no one would think ill of you."

Hermione looked at the altar, her eyes moving slowly over the strange carvings on the top, her mind racing. Home. She could go home… But did she really want to? It seemed less like home to her now. For some reason she felt as though she belonged with these people. She had grown fond of their ways – albeit strange ways, but nonetheless fond of them. And for some unknown reason, the handsome face of Galahad flickered through her mind, with his kind, concerned eyes causing something to stir within her.

She cleared her throat and looked to Merlin, who had a strange smile on his face. "I can't leave now." She said with certainty and determination. "I was sent here for a reason, right?" She said, looking once more at the altar.

"It seems you were." He said simply, handing her a bow and some arrows. She grinned and took them from him eagerly. "Now prepare yourself, this isn't going to be easy."

She found Guinevere once more and took position up next to her, looking out of place in her dirty rag of a dress. "Do we know if anything's happened yet?" She asked, peering out into the smoky fields.

Guinevere shrugged. "It's quite clever really; they've used smoke to conceal themselves… The Saxons will not see them coming, no matter where they stand."

Hermione nodded, seeing sense in such a tactic. "Arthur is a very clever man." She stated, her eyes trained on Guinevere. "And very kind, too. Not mention handsome." She grinned as Guinevere's cheeks flooded with crimson.

"Yes, I have to agree." She said, keeping her eyes trained on the fields before here.

Movement occurred in the fields – the sound of steel cutting through the air and connecting with flesh filled Hermione's ears and made her shudder. Grunts of pain echoed and the occasional protest from a horse. She suddenly felt nervous… hopefully none of the Knights were hurt. "Please be safe." She whispered, closing her eyes in a silent prayer.

The smoke cleared almost in an instant and Hermione could see all seven of the knights on their horses, weapons at the ready. Galahad stood out among them, his head held high and his eyes surveying the scene before him. Hermione felt her heart flutter as she stared at him. The Saxons marched in quickly, and seeing Arthur and his companions, charged.

With a yell from within the Woads, Guinevere took off, along with and army of others adorning the blue battle markings. Hermione ran with them, her bow at the ready with an arrow notched into place. She let it fly and it lodged itself deeply into the head of the first Saxon warrior she saw. She look at it in awe, having never really used a bow as a weapon and briefly wondered if it had something to do with her new found powers.

Guinevere moved in swiftly, her arrows hitting her targets with accuracy, and when she got close enough, drew out a crescent shaped sword and gracefully cut down the nearest Saxon with ease.

And so the battle raged on. Hermione had managed to procure a long sword herself, and as the Saxons came, she felt her body move as though she had been battling her entire life. A big burly Saxon moved to strike her down and she somehow dodged him, dropping her sword in the process. She cursed as she dodged another blow, his heavy axe coming within inches of her face. With a hand, she threw up a quick shield and scrambled for the nearest sword as the Saxon swung at her again, his blow sending him sprawling backwards with force when it hit her shield, shattering it in the process. "WITCH!" He cried in anger.

She grabbed the hilt of her sword and as she did, a large foot landed on the blade. She looked up to find the same Saxon she had used the cruciatus curse on earlier in the Saxon encampment, with a twisted smile on his face, he pulled her up by the front of her ruined dress.

"You." He said with a sickening smile on his face. "Where is your magic now?" He sneered.

Hermione panicked as his hands wrapped themselves around her neck. She couldn't think as pain seared through her chest, for the lack of air. She was struggling, her fingernails digging into his forearms in an attempt to release herself.

"HERMIONE!" She heard from afar. Her vision began to darken, she could feel her lungs screaming for air and she suddenly felt incredibly weak.

"Galahad!" She croaked, her eyes closing slowly. It all went black.

**~ The Legendary ~**

Galahad ran through the fighting, swinging his sword at every Saxon who engaged, his movements desperate and quick. He pushed several men out of his way as Hermione's body went limp. With a loud cry, he launched himself onto the man who held her, his grip releasing her in an instant.

They scrambled on the ground, each reaching for their weapon, and in an instant we stood, facing one another, Galahad's eyes flickering to Hermione's unmoving body. Anger filled him and he sprung at the Saxon, their swords connecting in the middle. Galahad pulled away and swung back once more, his sword met by his opponent. With a grunt he pulled back and the two circled each other for a moment, before launching at each other once more.

Their swords clashed in fury, Galahad blocking the heavy blows from the Saxon and serving some quick, yet forceful blows in return. He finally managed to nick the Saxon on the shoulder, and as he gave a cry of pain, he swung for Galahad, his sword connecting with Galahad's side armour. As he clutched at his side, the Saxon elbowed him in the mouth, which gave out a resounding crunch.

Galahad grunted and pulled himself up again, his sword swinging with full force toward the Saxon, catching him off guard. It connected with the back of his leg, bringing him down to his knees. He looked up at Galahad, and for the first time, fear flickered across his eyes, his arrogance long forgotten as Galahad sunk his sword into his neck, hacking off his head in one powerful blow.

He dropped to his knees next to Hermione, hands pushing her long hair from her face. With tears in his eyes he pulled her close to him. He had never felt this kind of pain before. In silence, he held her, only mildly aware that the battle had died down.

Hermione groaned, it was such a small sound that Galahad wasn't sure if he'd heard it, or if it had been wishful thinking. He peered down at her with hope, his heart beating faster in anticipation. Her eyes blinked open and came to focus on his face. "Galahad? Is that you?" Her voice was so hoarse, he barely understood.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed happily, a grin on his face. His chest seemed to warm up and he held her tightly. "I thought you were..." He trailed off, looking down at her.

"What happened?" She croaked, struggling to sit up.

His hands steadied her as she managed to sit up gingerly. "I saw that Saxon scum try to kill you… And I thought he had succeeded…"

The memory of the bald-headed man rushed back to Hermione. She gasped, her hands lightly touching her bruised and swollen neck. "You saved me." She stated with a small smile, her eyes connecting with him.

Galahad blushed crimson. "Well I wouldn't exactly call that a rescue… I was almost too late…" He said sadly. "I had thought the worst…" He looked down at his hands.

Hermione placed her hands gently on his face and forced him to look her in the eyes as she said her next words. "But I'm alive, Galahad. I'm alive, and it's all thanks to you."

He smiled at her and found that he very much enjoyed the smile he got in return. Galahad wasn't sure what caused him to do it, but in that moment, he leant forward and crashed his lips into hers in a passionate kiss.

A call of "Finally!" which was followed by a chorus of wolf whistling erupted from the other knights, and the both pulled apart with flushed cheeks and sheepish smiles.


	13. Happily Ever Afters

**AN: I know, BAD author! Bad! My life has gone to hell, hence the lateness of all updates =( So sorry guys! But, here it is, the final chapter! I'm so going to miss this! Enjoy =)**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Hermione sighed as she stared out of the window. Her head rested heavily on her hand as she leant on the window sill. A deep sadness echoed through her body. Yesterday had been a cheerful, although saddening day as Arthur and Guinevere were wed, Arthur proclaimed king and their dead buried. She smiled at the memory briefly, before another sigh escaped her lips. She was going home today.

A nock sounded at her door, and she gave permission to enter, still staring out of the heavily built window. It was most likely someone to alert her to breakfast.

"Ah, Lady Hermione?" A deep voice caught her off guard, and she turned in shock to see Galahad standing awkwardly in the door way.

"Galahad!" She exclaimed, standing suddenly, her hands fidgeting in front of her. "Err, hello…" She cleared her throat.

He half smiled at her, watching as her cheeks flushed. "How are you feeling?" He asked, his voice sounding so small to his own ears.

She smiled sadly. "I'm… fine." She said. "How… how are you?" She asked tentatively. The two of them had barely spoken since the battle. Their moment of passion not forgotten, yet undermined by the mere fact that Hermione did not belong in this time.

"About the same," He chuckled sightly, stepping closer. "I was wondering if we could… Well, if you'd like to, that is, would you like to take a walk." Galahad felt as though he could slap himself. He was far too nervous and sounded like an imbecile.

Hermione smiled. "Of course, that would be lovely." She agreed, pushing her unruly hair out of her face as she snatched up a cloak.

She followed him in silence, eyes on the ground. She was afraid to look at him – she was afraid of what she might feel if she did. He was just so – well, he was amazing, and Hermione was about to leave him behind. As they reached a courtyard, empty and dreary looking, Galahad stopped to face her, taking her hands in his, he led her to a nearby bench, where she sat.

Still holding her hands, he looked at her with sadness in his eyes. "I just – I just wanted to say goodbye. They tell me you're going back to your time, and I, well I don't really want you to leave… but it is what you must do…" He broke eye contact, his heart pounding in his chest. He had certainly never done this before.

Hermione stood, straining to find his eyes. "Galahad, I…" She began, but suddenly stopped. What was she really supposed to say? She had no idea – and that was a real _first_ for Hermione Granger! She cleared her throat. "I'm glad you came – to say goodbye that is." She smiled half-heartedly.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Well, I wish you the very best, Lady Hermione." He said, before grazing his lips across her knuckles with a formal bow. "Be safe."

"And the same to you, Sir Galahad." She said, sadly, sitting heavily back on the bench as she watched him walk away. Once Galahad was out of sight, the tears broke through and she found herself staring after him with regret and a deep longing.

**~ The Legendary ~**

"GALAHAD!" Bors roared, mug of ale in hand, as he placed a heavy arm around his fellow Knight's shoulder. "You look terrible, my friend!" He chuckled, handing him some ale.

Galahad grimaced. "You always know how to flatter me!" He chuckled, gulping down his beverage.

Gawain strode up to him, grasping his hand tightly. "What's on your mind, brother?" He enquired, although he already knew the answer.

"I'm fine, Gawain, honestly. But I do believe you owe me a drink." He said, slumping down on a seat. Gawain agreed, signalling the barman for another drink. It was brought over in a timely fashion, and Galahad began to consume it immediately. He sat back, closing his eyes as he felt Gawain plop down next to him.

Gawain sighed. "You're a stubborn arse, you know that right?" Galahad looked at him through narrowed eyes. "When does she leave?"

Galahad sat back up, "Midday." He stated, taking another swig.

"Ah, I see. So that leaves you an hour? Why are you not with her?"

Galahad sighed, shaking his head. "I've said my goodbyes. Why should I draw it out?" Bors and Dagonet, overhearing the conversation, joined the two at the table.

"Who said it had to be goodbye?" Dagonet, usually quiet, suggested. Galahad rolled his eyes. "Clearly, you love her, so why do you _have _to say goodbye? Nobody said you couldn't go with her." The other three were looking at their tall companion in shock at his sensitive words.

Bors cleared his throat, "Don't be a fool. Tell the woman how you feel!" He said, gulping down his own drink.

Galahad looked at them all, bewildered. "Since when did you lot start giving love advice?"

Gawain chuckled. "Too much time with that bloody Lancelot – God rest his soul." He muttered and they all chuckled.

Galahad rubbed his forhead tiredly. "I don't belong in her world, nor does she belong in this world. What am I to do about that?" He frowned, staring into the fizzing ale.

Bors grunted. "How would you know? You're retired now, you're going to need _something _to do with your sad, sappy self. Why not go on another adventure? You _do _have the perfect reason!"

Galahad smiled. "Thank you, my friend, but I don't know if she wants me there. She has another life, and no doubt another man, somewhere." He was clearly miserable.

Gawain stood, and bumped a fist on the table loudly. "Stop being a bloody idiot, and go after the girl! You know none of this for sure. She wants a real man, so hurry up and show her that you are!"

"Well if she wanted a real man, I have _no idea_ why she'd go for Galahad!" Bors laughed, which earned him a hard punch to the shoulder. "Now get your arse out of here, boy!"

**~ The Legendary ~**

Hermione stood in the clearing, next to the stone altar accompanied by Merlin, Arthur and Guinevere. She smiled sadly as she embraced Guinevere. "Best of luck to you both!" She said, addressing the King and Queen.

Guinevere smiled and took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "It will always work out, Lady Hermione." She smiled knowingly, causing Hermione's brow to furrow.

Hermione turned to Merlin. "Thank you for everything, Merlin!" She said.

"It is us, who should be thanking _you_, Hermione Granger. You did exactly what you set out to do." Merlin said, embracing her.

"Anything to help!" She grinned, her heart heavy, and her throat tight with the threat of tears.

Arthur cleared his throat. "We have been honoured to have you with us. I truly hope you can find your happiness." His words were stiff, but his smile was genuine. Hermione returned it, taking a deep breath as she faced the stone structure.

Merlin smiled. "It is not time yet, Hermione." He said, his eyes alight with something Hermione couldn't quite place. Funnily enough, he was reminding her of Dumbledore, with his mischievous ways. She narrowed her eyes briefly at him, and then proceeded to study the altar.

It was about shoulder height and covered in mould. The markings ran from its thick base, up the thinner middle and circled around the large top, to form a spiral, meeting in the middle. It was intricate, and Hermione wondered how long it would have taken to carve it.

Guinevere was looking at Hermione amused. "Merlin carved it himself." She stated, reading Hermione's thoughts.

Hermione looked at Merlin as he nodded happily. "It was one of the first things I did with my magic. I knew it would come in handy one day." He mused.

The first bell chimed, to signal the midday mark, and Hermione smiled sadly. She gave Guinevere one last quick squeeze and placed her hand on the surface of the altar, Merlin placing his on top of her own.

"Wait!" The voice called, followed by the loud sound of galloping hooves. "Wait!" Galahad called again, his horse thundering into the clearing and skidding to a halt in front of Hermione.

"Galahad!" Hermione exclaimed, confusion clear on her face. Her heart was hammering against her chest.

He leapt down from his horse without a word and strode up to her quickly, pulling her close to him and placing his lips on hers in one swift motion. He held her tightly to him and she pushed herself closer to him, meeting him with equal passion. When they finally pulled away, Hermione was breathless.

"Galahad, I –"

"Shh," He hushed her. "Let me speak." He said, and she nodded, looking at him with wide eyes. "I know you must think me a fool, and I am aware that I'm probably too late, but I love you! I love you, and I want to tell the world!" He exclaimed, taking her hands. He looked her in the eyes. "I know I probably don't belong in your world, but I know it in my heart, I belong with YOU. And I am willing to follow you anywhere to prove it." He said, determined.

She stared at him. He stood in front of her, his curly hair a mess from his hurried ride. His eyes bored into hers and she found herself grinning. "Come with me!" She suddenly blurted out. He grinned at her. "I love you too, Galahad. I'm so sorry, I didn't – I didn't even realise!"

He kissed her slowly and her eyes fluttered closed in bliss. The clearing of a throat pulled them from their embrace.

"Oh, errr…" Hermione said, her cheeks flushing as the three others in the clearing grinned at them. She pressed herself into Galahad. "Oh, no! We've missed it!" She exclaimed, hearing the last chime.

Merlin chuckled, "I knew you would, but there's always tomorrow, my dear… come, you two have a lot to discuss." He said, ushering the five of them and the horse out onto the path, and back toward the castle.

Hermione grinned as Galahad helped her up onto the horse. He jumped on behind her and she leant back into him. "Comfortable?" He smirked.

"Very." She replied happily. "Ropes were definitely meant for the bedroom!" She found herself saying. She blushed at her own words and giggled.

Galahad looked at her confused. "What do you do with ropes in the bedroom?" He asked.

Hermione grinned. "I guess you'll find out, one day!" she giggled, leaving Galahad, if possible, even more confused.

And so, the Hermione Granger and Sir Galahad went on another adventure, and, in case you were wondering, lived happily ever after…

**The End**


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